


Much Colder Than Before

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-20
Updated: 2003-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All this time lingers, undefined./Someone choose who's left and who's leaving.--John K. Samson<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Colder Than Before

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seana Renay

 

 

The boogie woogie bugle beta knows who she is. And she boogies like she's wearin' mah shoes. 

Much Colder Than Before 

Tuesday 

"Tomorrow morning the President will give his address from the Mural Room; you're all invited, so be there with bells on." 

"CJ, will the President talk about--" 

CJ leveled her gaze at the reporter, pulling off her reading glasses and twirling them around by an earpiece. "Chris, it's an address, not a press conference. He'll give his speech, he'll answer a few questions that pertain to the address, and you'll get your three inches of column space." 

"But is he going to talk about anything else?" 

"Chris. What is the address on?" 

"The economic stimulus package." 

"And if he is going to talk about the economic stimulus package, he probably won't talk about anything else." CJ slid her glasses back on and looked down at her book. 

Danny raised his hand. "Will he be available for questions after the address?" 

CJ didn't look up; she was tapping her pencil against the podium, and her shoulders had gone oddly tight. "No, Danny, because when I said that the President will answer a few questions that pertain to his address, I meant that he won't answer any questions at all." 

"CJ..." 

"We've allotted five minutes for questions, so you all get to play good cop bad cop with the President. That's...that's all I have for you right now. See you at the four o' clock briefing." She closed the book as the Press Corps stood up, their voices a low hum in the room, but she didn't step off the podium for a long moment. 

Sam watched her from behind the glass of the press' tiny cubicle room, clicking a pen. A few reporters cast him glances as they wandered past, but no one hailed him or paid him much attention. When CJ started for the door in the back of the briefing room, he tucked the pen into his pocket and hurried down the steps, following her. 

"...on the address on my desk in half an hour," she was saying to Carol, who was scribbling something onto a notepad. "And you misspelled the name of the woman from India who's coming to the address. It's Naveeta with two 'e's, not an 'i.' And her last name--" 

"Is Patoli, with an 'i'," Carol said, "not a 'y'. I know, I checked after you went up. I'm sorry." 

"That's fine. At least you didn't misspell 'senator' this time." 

"We're improving every day," Carol said, smiling as she turned the corner. CJ dropped her briefing book onto Carol's desk and moved into her own office. Sam followed her silently, and watched as she bent over Gail's fishbowl, fumbling a little with the lid to the fish food. 

"You seemed a little distracted," he said, and CJ jumped; the can of fish food jolted in her hand and a few stray flakes spilled onto the floor. 

"After we get out of here, maybe you should apply to the Secret Service. You've got the whole silent-but-deadly thing going on right now." She picked up the flakes and flicked them into the wastebasket next to her desk. "What can I do for you, Sam?" 

"Nothing much. I was watching the briefing--" 

"Yeah, I saw you," CJ said, going around her desk and sitting down in the chair. She opened up her laptop and poked a few buttons. "Anything wrong with what I said?" She looked up at him over her reading glasses, which she hadn't taken off after the briefing. "Did you not want the President to be available to the press after the address?" 

"That thing's Toby's baby, not mine, so you'll have to talk to him on that one, but I'm pretty sure we'd planned on that," Sam said. "Do you mind if I sit down?" 

"Yeah, I mean, sure, go ahead." She waved a hand at the couch. "Put the files on the floor, they're not in any particular order." 

Sam pushed the folders aside and sat down. "Anyway. What I came in to say was, you seemed a little distracted." 

"During the briefing?" CJ looked at him blankly. 

"Yes." 

"Distracted?" 

"You were...terse." 

"Terse." 

"With the Press Corps. You were short. And taciturn. And terse." 

"Use those thesaurus skills there, Skippy." 

"CJ." 

"I wasn't distracted, Sam. I was terse, maybe, but that's because I usually get that way when I'm asked questions that I've already answered." 

"Is--Was there something wrong?" 

"At the briefing?" 

"No, I mean... I only watched the last half of the briefing. Did something happen in the first part?" 

CJ chuffed out a laugh. "Sam, if something had happened, I'd either be getting reamed or doing the reaming myself. No." 

"So what was the matter?" 

CJ sat forward in her chair, focusing on her laptop screen. "Nothing. Nothing was wrong. I lost my train of thought for a minute, that's all." 

Sam stood up and shrugged. "All right. Just thought I'd check." 

"Thanks for your concern, Sam." 

He shut the door behind him when he left. 

Wednesday 

"All right, the President will now answer questions for five minutes." 

Sam glanced over at CJ; she seemed collected and capable, but he could see her tapping her pen repeatedly against her leg. 

"Mr. President, you believe that this package will give the economy the push it needs to get us out of this recession?" 

"Bagel," Sam heard Larry mutter, and quickly covered his mouth with a hand to hide his smile. 

"...closely with Congress, in order to avoid raising taxes too much for the working citizen," the President was saying. "Next?" 

"Mr. President..." 

Sam tuned the reporter out and turned his gaze back to CJ, who was standing about halfway across the room. She was staring down at the cover of her briefing book; her face had taken on a tight, closed expression, one that she'd worn disturbingly often the past few days. Wondering what, if anything, was the matter, Sam turned his attention back to the President. 

"...Help to get farmers off the government subsidies program. Danny?" 

"Mr. President, do you have a comment on the Casey Bergman trial?" 

Sam's head whipped around, looking for CJ. She hadn't even looked up from her briefing book. Pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on and slowly making his way through the throng of people who'd come to watch the address, he heard the President say, "I'm sorry, Danny, could you repeat the question?" Sam sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the stall. 

"Mr. President, I would like to know if you have a comment on the People of Michigan v. Casey Bergman trial. It's the first trial where your hate crimes legislation will be implemented, and I wanted to know if you had a comment." 

Sam glanced back over his shoulder, hoping that Toby had noticed that something was going on and had moved to stop the President from answering. He bumped against someone and muttered, "Excuse me," before reaching CJ. 

"Well, Danny, I'm afraid I don't know enough about the trial to comment." 

There was a pause, broken only by the click and flash of cameras. Sam laid a hand on CJ's shoulder and shook it gently. "CJ," he hissed. She raised her head and blinked at him. 

"Sir, don't you think it's a little...odd...for you not to know much about the first trial that will be affected by the hate crimes law?" 

Sam heard Toby clear his throat. "I'm sorry, but the President can't take any more questions right now." 

"Have a good day, everybody," the President said cheerfully, and the whole room shuffled into motion. CJ, however, maintained her blank stare at Sam. 

"CJ," Sam said. "CJ, are you okay?" 

She blinked, and her face went slack, sliding out of that terrible emptiness. "What?" 

Josh appeared at Sam's side. "You didn't stop the question," he said to CJ. "Why did that go on for so long?" 

"Tell the President thank you for stalling," Sam muttered, and Josh nodded. 

The room was emptying, and by now Leo had made his way over to them. "CJ, I thought I told you that there could only be questions about the address," he said. "I thought I told you to make that clear to the press." 

CJ shook her head, hair swinging in front of her face. She tucked it back behind her ear, then nodded. "I know, Leo. I know. I did. I know." 

"So what happened there? Why didn't you stop the question?" 

"I...I don't know. I was distracted." 

Leo studied her for a moment. "Fine," he said, after a pause. "Someone should go and rap Danny across the knuckles." 

"I'll go," Josh said swiftly, and left the room. After a glance back at CJ and Sam, Leo followed him. 

"CJ," Sam said, "why don't you go back to your office and lie down?" 

"I'm fine," she said, pushing his hand off her shoulder and heading for the doorway. 

He followed her down the hallway, quickening his pace to keep up with her. Heels thumping on the carpet, she threw an irritated look over her shoulder. 

"What do you want, Sam?" 

"Something is the matter," he insisted, as they turned a corner into the Communications Bullpen. They stopped in front of her door and she set her hands on her hips, fingers tightening on the briefing book. 

"Sam, nothing is wrong." 

"There is," he said. "You just aren't admitting it." 

"And if there is," she said, "isn't that my own private business?" Her voice was climbing in volume, and Sam looked quickly into the bullpen to see if anyone was paying attention. 

"It ceased to be your private business about ten minutes ago," he said, biting off his words. 

"Sam! Why won't you believe me when I say that nothing is wrong?" 

Sam glared at her, feeling uncomfortably like a petulant child and fighting the urge to stomp his feet. "Because, CJ, I feel disinclined to believe you when stuff like that--" he flung a hand back in the direction of the Mural Room, "-back there goes and happens!" 

They regarded each other for a moment, aware that the bullpen had gone suddenly quiet. CJ finally lowered her eyes and fumbled for the doorknob. "Come inside," she said, her voice low. 

Sam followed her inside and closed the door behind him. She perched on the edge of her desk and put a hand over her eyes, waving her other hand at the couch. Sam didn't sit. Inhaling, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath, CJ said, "I looked at my watch yesterday and didn't know why it was there." 

Sam blinked. "What?" 

CJ raised her gaze, letting her hand fall to her side. "I looked at my watch, and I didn't know what it was. I didn't know what it was for. It was just...something on my wrist that I didn't recognize." 

"What...what does that mean?" 

Exhaling explosively, CJ scrubbed at her face and dug her fingers into her eyes. "It means," she said through her hands, "that my father has Alzheimer's and it's a hereditary disease." 

Sam stared at her. "You don't have Alzheimer's, CJ." 

CJ shook her head. "No. I absolutely do not think I have Alzheimer's. All I'm saying is..." 

"You're worried that you might get it." 

"It's not the common cold, Sam! You can't 'get' Alzheimer's. You're born with the gene." 

"I know, CJ. I've read the same studies you have." 

"It's a hereditary disease." 

"You're barely in your forties. You can't have Alzheimer's." 

"Earliest reported onset was in a patient that was twenty-seven," CJ said quietly. 

"You've done your research," Sam said, in lieu of having anything else to say. What else could he say to this? 

"Of course I've done my research, Sam," CJ said. "I have a fifty percent chance of having this...this disease. I want to know what's coming down the pipe at me." 

"What happened at the address? Something like your watch?" 

CJ shook her head. "No. No. I just got...like I told Leo, I got distracted. I get distracted easily. I forget things." 

Sam had to smile. "That's not a big deal. I can't remember what I had for dinner last night." 

"No, Sam, that's not what I mean. I mean, I don't know what dinner is. I look at my stove and don't know what it does. I take out a head of lettuce to make salad and wander off and don't come back for two hours, and then wonder why the lettuce is sitting there." 

"Oh," Sam said. 

CJ's hands dropped to the desk, her palms slapping against the wood. "Don't. Don't...don't tell anyone, Sam." 

"CJ--" 

"Don't. Don't. Don't tell me I should...don't tell me I should get help, Sam. Don't tell me I should, I should see a doctor or something. Don't." 

"I wasn't going to," he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to the heels, inching forward towards her. "I wasn't going to say that," he lied. 

"Okay," she says. "I, um. I should get ready for the noon briefing." 

Sam puts his hands back into his pockets, looks down at the floor, rocks back and forth and back again. "Okay," he says finally. He looks down at the floor, feels like he's running away, points back at the door. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna go see what Josh said to Danny." 

She waves a hand languidly and he starts for the door, then on an impulse, he takes a few steps forwards and wraps her in his arms, pulling her head to his chest. She sighs and leans into him, putting one arm around his waist. He presses a kiss to her hair, then steps back. 

She leans back out of his embrace, and his hands are empty again, grasping at air, at words that won't come. "Thank you, Sam." 

He nods tersely and heads for the door. "I'll see you at the noon briefing." 

Once in the hallway, he stops, looks around, puts his hands in his pockets, takes them out again. Nods to Ginger, Bonnie, rocks back on his heels, starts down the hallway toward Josh's office. Stops at the corner he'd turn to go to Leo's office, takes a step down that hallway. Pauses. Looks around, puts his hands back in his pockets. Pivots on his heel and goes back to the Communications Bullpen. Pauses. Takes his hands out of his pockets, and opens CJ's door. 

/fin/ 

 


End file.
